


Trastevere

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [117]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 38 lifetimes, 38 lifetimes au, Drabble, Existing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, the red nose diaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 14:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20137108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: A hot Rome afternoon. July, 2022.





	Trastevere

Milk for coffee. Eggs. Croissants from the little bakery around the corner. Another bar of chocolate to replace the one Tom had been saving for supper but instead had eaten for breakfast. Three fuzzy, perfect peaches.

Tom put these items away while Carmen heaved their sleeping children out of the double stroller. She took them down the hall to the dim second bedroom of their rented holiday flat for what she hoped was a long, good nap.

Rome and its damnable heat had a way of slowing down even the most rambunctious little ones. Three year old Billy and two year old Iris were not exempt from its effects.

Up with the sun, tumbling out of their parents’ bed demanding hugs (_“Of course, my loves”_) and juice (“_Maybe”_) and their phones _(“Nonono”_). Scampering out of the flat, running down the narrow streets and into dim passageways from whence they would burst, inevitably, into blazing hot _piazzas _where relief could be found by sticking their heads under one of the city’s many fountains or begging for cups of _gelato_. Grumbling while they were slathered in sunscreen and made to wear floppy hats. Petting strange dogs. Sharing plates of pasta at lunch in tiny cafes where they were always sat in a dim corner where the children could giggle and shriek without bothering the staff too much.

The sharing? A habit in which they were encouraged (or trained, depending on your point of view) by their clever papa after many viewings of _Lady and The Tramp_.

Carmen got them out of their clothes, and gently wiped their faces, necks, hands, and feet with baby wipes. They children didn’t stir from their sleep, merely snuggled next to each other and clutched their stuffed animals. The room had two twin beds but Billy and Iris always ended up together in one (before they made their way overnight into their parents’ bed). Carmen covered them with a linen sheet, kissed their foreheads, checked the baby monitor, and made sure the nightlight was flicked on before leaving them to their rest.

The shower in the master bathroom was going so, rather than join Tom, Carmen used the children’s bath to shower. The spray was hot and hard, massaging the top of her head and easing an ache in her lower back. She rubbed her belly slowly, murmuring endearments to the baby that grew within. Carmen pictured him snoozing, cozy and safe, just like his sister and brother.

Carmen helped herself to one of the Turkish cotton towels that sat in a basket by the door. She took her time walking into the master bath, where curls of steam lingered from Tom’s shower. She didn’t need to do much more, just spritz some detangler in her hair, smear snail mucus serum on her face, and apply a thin coat of her very favorite, very expensive almond oil all over her body before joining Tom for their afternoon nap. If only she could find the oil, which was gone from its usual spot on the vanity. It wasn’t in the shower, or in one of the many plastic bags she used to pack her toiletries. It wasn’t in Tom’s dopp kit, or buried under the pile of towels he left on the floor.

It was in the bedroom. Specifically, in Tom’s hands. His long, elegant fingers turned the bottle of almond oil around as he examined the label. The room was dim but she could see that his hair was still wet, haphazard curls that tumbled along his brow. He lay in bed, on top of a large blue and white Turkish towel that was an impulse purchase from their trip to the beach at Ostia a few days earlier. The room was cold but despite the chill, Tom was still naked. 

This was an invitation that Carmen found, as ever, impossible to refuse.

Saying nothing, Carmen approached his side of the bed. Taking the bottle, she uncapped it to pour a small amount of oil in her right palm. Tom took the bottle back, then placed it on the small night table before he interlaced the fingers of his hands and settled in to watch while she oiled her shoulders, her breasts. Along her sides and round to the small of her back. Carmen gave her own hips a squeeze, then stooped over to do her thighs and knees, knees calves heels toes. She ignored Tom’s exaggerated grunts as she clambered over him to flop on her side of the bed.

They lay there, staring at the ceiling. It was the first moment of quiet they’d had together since that morning. When they were still asleep, Tom draped on top of Carmen and drooling on her bare shoulder.

“They’re asleep?”

“Yeah,” sighed Carmen. “Same bed.”

“Alright.”

“Didn’t bother with pajamas. Their pull-ups were clean. Just cleaned them with the wipes. Tucked them in under the top sheet.” Carmen bit her bottom lip. “You’ll bathe them after supper tonight?”

“Yes, Button.”

She turned to lay on her side, to face Tom and examine the shape of his profile. Trace the line of his nose before letting her hand come to rest in the space between them. She scratched idly at the towel and hummed.

“Nice towel you got here, Sporty,” she said.

“Best ten euro I ever spent,” declared Tom.

“Was this what you had in mind when you bought it?” Carmen asked.

“Depends on what you think I had in mind,” Tom said, primly.

“Did you use my almond oil?”

“Now that’s getting us somewhere.” Tom grinned, then turned to look at her face.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hullo,” replied Tom.

“How are you?”

“Good.” Tom leaned in to press his nose to her cheek. “How are you, love?”

“Cold,” she whispered.

Tom touched his lips to hers, then spoke: “Warm you up?”

Carmen shivered. “Yes,” she murmured, kissing him back. _“Yes.”_


End file.
